


Remember what I told you

by Nary



Category: Diablotin
Genre: Backrubs, Fights, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Insults, Knives, M/M, Male Homosociality, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3204923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ander sat up with a sigh.  "I don't actually care what you call me," he said calmly, folding his hands.  "But my friend here," he continued with a nod to Ralf, "he objects to that term."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember what I told you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Measured_Words](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured_Words/gifts).



> For the prompt: "These are dangerous days / To say what you feel is to dig your own grave" (Black Boys on Mopeds - The Nields)

"...next to a pair of fuckin' faggots..."

Ander wasn't sure at first which of the men at the adjacent table had said it, but it was pretty clear that they were talking about him and Ralf. He'd been leaning against his right-hand man, accepting the offer of a neck rub and some subtle head scritches in the lull between jobs tonight, and apparently someone didn't like that. He turned to get a better look at them - three young men, well-dressed, muscle-bound, and intoxicated. When he made eye contact with one of them, an ugly sneer crossed his face. 

"Yeah, I'm talkin' about you, queer." The man's belligerent tone added an implication of "what are you gonna do about it?"

Ander sat up with a sigh. "I don't actually care what you call me," he said calmly, folding his hands. "But my friend here," he continued with a nod to Ralf, "he objects to that term."

The ringleader scoffed as he stood up, cracking his knuckles. "If he don't wanna be called a cocksucker, he oughta keep his mouth off your dick, then."

Ralf stood swiftly, dodging the first poorly-thrown punch. Ander watched with a mix of admiration and concern as the skinny mobster had his knives out in a flash. Shedding blood at Tits' would be a problem, and he was pretty sure it wouldn't come to that, but still, there was something elegant about Ralf's way of handling the matter. "Say it again and I gut you like a pig," he hissed, prodding the man's side with one of his blades, just so he knew it was there. The other was waiting in case the lug's buddies decided to weigh in.

"Are you fuckin' crazy?"

"Wanna find out?" Ralf smiled, his scar pulling one side of his face askew.

"What seems to be the trouble here?" The two combatants stepped apart as the head of security strode over. Ander noticed with pride just how quickly Ralf's knives disappeared when Geff arrived. 

"This fuckin' queer pulled a knife on me!" the man protested, his face red and mottled with rage.

"I don't see a knife," Geff said mildly. "But you're in the wrong club if you have a problem with queers, pal. You won't like the show much. I suggest you get out before anything else happens."

The three guys stormed off, loudly complaining about their treatment. Geff turned to Ralf, folding his arms. "I'm not gonna see a knife, either, am I?"

They'd only been using the club as their meeting point for a few months, and Ander knew they were only there on the sufferance of people like the head of security, provided they didn't make trouble and paid their tabs (with generous tips all around).

"No sir," Ralf said, just as straight-faced as if he was back in the army. Ander was half-surprised he didn't salute. 

"All right then," Geff said with a curt nod, and went back to his post. 

Ander let out a breath he hadn't quite realized he'd been holding as Ralf returned to sit down beside him again. He seemed more subdued now, and was fiddling a bit with his cuffs - probably making sure his knives were away safely and that they could slide out again whenever they were needed. "Maybe a little overkill," Ander told him, "but it turned out okay."

"Can't let assholes mouth off to you like that," Ralf muttered.

"Hey," Ander said, realizing his friend was more bothered than he'd let on, "it's all right. They were just drunk, stupid nobodies, it doesn't matter. And I don't actually care if someone calls me a queer, even if they think they're insulting me." 

"I know," Ralf said. "But I'm not a queer, an' ... I guess it gets under my skin, that's all."

Ander thought for a moment about things Ralf didn't talk about much. About being a small, scrawny kid running the streets with a gang of toughs, and what that might have been like; about why a boy like that might want to get good with knives. "I know that," he told him more slowly. "But there's gonna be times when someone who's here on business is gonna try to get a rise out of me - or you - an' they might do it by sayin' shit like that, if they ain't real subtle or clever. You gotta let it roll off you, or we both end up in trouble."

Ralf nodded glumly. "Sorry, boss."

"No harm done," Ander assured him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Apart from now my neck's all knotted up again."

"Well. I can fix that later," Ralf told him with a crooked smile.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [naryrising](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/naryrising) if you want to ask questions, make requests, or chat!


End file.
